


folioed

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 15:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Morgana moves back home to take a job at the local university, Gwen finds herself wooing the woman with whom she'd had the worst break up five years earlier. In the meanwhile, Merlin and Arthur find themselves recalibrating their long-term relationship. A story featuring: two librarians (Gwen & Merlin), one academic (Morgana), one vaguely emo author (Arthur), a series of non-dates, thirtysomething angst, and possibly a puppy. Oh, and books. <i>Lots</i> of books.</p>
            </blockquote>





	folioed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [whizzbangpop](http://community.livejournal.com/whizzbangpop) 2010.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta readers: ems (who also britpicked!), kivrin, snottygrrl, and wordsdiminish. And to my artist, shan_3414.
> 
> [Banner, icons, and fanmix.](http://shan-3414.livejournal.com/33936.html) Please take a look at this gorgeous work. :)

"Morning, Merlin." Gwen put her coffee down, pulled off her gloves, and wrapped her hands back around the cup to re-warm them. "You're here early. And in the wrong part of the library?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, sorry. Computer's down in the children's section again."

"Did you talk to Gaius?"

Merlin shook his head. He was wearing the dark blue scarf he usually paired up with his grey wool coat and the tips of his ears were pink – sure signs he'd walked to work this morning. "He's at that conference. The one in Leeds, I think?"

"Oh, that's right, he'll be gone for the rest of this week." Holding her cup of coffee, Gwen leaned against the counter and peered at the computer screen. "Are you looking at photographs of puppies?"

"No. I mean, all right, yeah, but… It's Arthur."

"Arthur?"

"It's his new distraction, puppy-hunting on the internet and sending me the pictures. It's going to be house hunting any day now, so we'll have somewhere to put the puppy." Merlin smiled, in that tight, brief way he had when he didn't really want to smile at all. "Anyway. I ought to go. We're reading _Giraffes Can't Dance_ this morning for story time and I should look it over first. Is it all right if I print out my schedule here?"

"Sure, yeah. Go right ahead. Oh, those are really cute. Look how tiny!"

"Yeah? Wait. No. Let's not encourage Arthur. Or, well, his random ideas, at least. You know how those turn out. Remember when we redecorated the office at home?" Merlin gave Gwen one of his significant looks.

Gwen thought for a moment. "He put that monstrous shelving unit together all right in the end. And didn't he have a dog growing up?"

"Well, all right, yes," Merlin admitted, but continued to frown at the computer screen before clicking away from the picture of the daschund puppies. "Lunch this afternoon?"

"As usual."

"As usual." Merlin smiled briefly, less strained this time, and headed off to the children's section of the library.

Gwen watched Merlin until he disappeared around the corner of a set of bookshelves, his head visible again for a moment beyond one of the displays on a lower shelf, until he reached his own desk. She'd tried, countless times, to get him to clean up his work area, but each time he managed to clear it, board books and soft toys and scraps of paper would re-cover the surface within a day or two. Merlin would shrug, claim he had no clue how it happened, and generally have the good sense to look repentant whilst papers cascaded off his desk.

That was Merlin, though. Completely unorganized, but good-hearted and brilliant with both children and their parents, and responsible for a lot of the children's and youth programs at the library. All of which made up for quite a bit of the disorganization and his tendency to forget what time staff meetings started. Unless he had to speak at them, then he'd arrive early, clutching the most recently acquired board book or soft toy, and somehow present a thoroughly organized, clear summary of the state of the children's section of the library.

Once she was certain she was left at the circulation desk on her own, surrounded by the scent of coffee and paper, Gwen sat down in front of the computer. She had her caffeine, she had the prospect of three or four hours working with books, and she had lunch with her best friend already worked into the day's schedule.

+

The early Monday morning optimism, the sort that Gwen tried to start out each week with, quickly faded.

Really, she ought to have known that any Monday schedule, neatly organized and set out on Friday afternoon, would debilitate into chaos by midday.

"Both computers?" she asked, staring at Merlin over their soup and sandwiches. "And the printers? Can we deal with broken printers and a barely-standing, propped-up shelf in the stacks?"

"Both computers. And the printers. But it's just the children's area, so I'll try and prod them back into working. Or I could ring Gaius?"

"Oh god. He'll kill you. You know how he loves his techie conferences."

Merlin gave his soup a mournful little look. "I've got tiny children coming who'll be expecting coloring sheets. Would Gaius want to disappoint the tiny children?"

Gwen laughed and shook her head. "Gaius would tell you to march your arse over to a different work area with a ream of paper and print your pictures out someplace else. How was your morning otherwise?"

"Fine, actually. The under threes liked the giraffe book, and we got the second set of shipments for the Bookstart program. I'm really excited about that."

"You'll have even tinier children coming into the library. I should come take a look at the materials they sent you. We could probably do a display out front for the program." Gwen stirred her own soup, finding the pasta-bits and beans in the broth so she could eat those first. "The Reading Is Magic one you did for the summer program has been up for months."

"Right, yeah, we could … ah, we could get something new up pretty quickly, I think. Bookstart sent posters and flyers, so there's that, and hopefully I'll have pictures by some of the children in the reading groups soon."

"Posters. We can absolutely put the up the posters for the Bookstart program. You do a nice job with the displays, so you there's no reason for you not to do this one, too."

The grin spread slowly over Merlin's face until he had to duck his head and hide it behind his sandwich triangle of hummus and green sprouty things. "What about you? I mean, aside from the sudden lack of people at the front desk and that accident in the stacks?"

Gwen hesitated. She supposed, if she could tell anyone, she could tell Merlin, who would listen and be sympathetic. Probably. "Um."

"What?" Merlin took a sip of tea and looked up at Gwen, curious. "Come on, what?"

"I think Morgana's back."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Did you get an email?"

Gwen shook her head.

"A phone call? Text? No, wait, Morgana doesn't text, or, at least, she refuses to text Arthur. Letter?" he pressed on when Gwen shook her head again. "Gwen, it's been five years since she – "

"I checked her books back in this morning."

Merlin paused, mouth half open, and blinked. "_Gwen. _ Did you library stalk her?"

"First of all, there's no such thing as 'library stalking,' _Merlin. _ You just made that up. Second, it doesn't count as stalking if you actually work at the library."

"Sure it does. Not," Merlin hedged, "that I would actually know…"

Gwen let that one pass, for the time being, and had another spoonful of her soup before it started to cool off too much. "I checked her books in this morning. I swear it was her. How many people are there who would go by M. LaFay?"

"The M could stand for something else?"

"Like?"

"Um. Monsieur?"

"Mm. Due to that great influx in the francophone population here in Carlisle, yes."

Merlin considered the matter for another few bites of sandwich and nibbled at one of his green sprouty bits. "Right. What books did M. LaFay return?"

"Two lesbian movies, including that one you refuse to watch because you're convinced it's too depressing –"

" – it is. I hate depressing love stories, I feel terrible for days after – "

"Those two dvds," Gwen continued despite Merlin's indignant huff, "a few books on contemporary feminist thought, and three cookbooks. The really complicated ones, with all the glossy pages and recipes with about thirty hard to find ingredients." Gwen stirred her soup one final time before deciding lukewarm minestrone sans pasta had little appeal. "Oh, and some genre fiction. Vampires. Maybe Regency vampire romances? Something like that."

Merlin leaned back in his seat, finally convinced. "I wonder if Arthur knows?"

+

"Morgana? _Morgana?_"

Apparently, Arthur didn't know. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, sock-footed and rumpled-haired, with a bowl of salad in both hands, a tea towel slung over his shoulder, and disbelief all over his face. He turned to Merlin to watch him add grated cheese to the salad, then turned back to Gwen, agape.

"Morgana," Merlin repeated. "She took out depressing lesbian love stories, cookbooks, and regency vampires in love. So. Yeah. Morgana. Or, Gwen thinks so, anyway."

Arthur set the salad bowl down on the table and scrubbed both hands through his hair. "All right. All right. She's my cousin, but she's your ex-girlfriend," he said to Gwen, "she'll have to talk to one of us eventually. She's never met Merlin, so."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Merlin clattered a handful of cutlery onto the table and took the stack of dishes from Gwen's hands. Arthur had done all the cooking, which left Merlin and Gwen the table-setting and washing up.

Both Arthur and Gwen got quiet for a few seconds, until Gwen finally said, "Good. Because maybe we can get you to spy on her for us."

\+ +

 

"Not that Gwen would really ask you to spy on her ex," Arthur said and sat down on his side of the bed. He'd changed into flannel pajama bottoms and one of Merlin's tee shirts, but didn't look even half as tired as Merlin felt.

Merlin was already curled up around his pillow, warm and drowsy from the wine they'd had with dinner and that he and Arthur had finished off after Gwen went home. "I know. It's Gwen, if she wants detective work done, she'll do it herself. Arthur?"

"Mm?"

"Set my alarm?"

"Of course. For six o'clock?"

Merlin yawned, nodded, and rubbed his face into his pillow. That was an hour earlier than usual, and a good two hours before Arthur tended to wake up, but with Gaius away and a couple members of the staff out for the week, it was easier for Merlin to go in early to try and deal with work difficulties. Once Arthur finished fiddling with the alarm clock, put on his reading glasses, and eased back against his pillows with a book, Merlin uncurled from around his pillow and into Arthur's side.

"Arthur?"

"What? Aren't you sleepy? You look sleepy." Arthur's fingers carded through his hair to stroke behind Merlin's ears, gentle and familiar.

"Do you really want… I'm not sure we should get a puppy."

"Oh, that. I suppose, if you would really prefer a kitten –"

Merlin shook his head to rub his face into Arthur's side and immerse himself in the scent and warmth of his body. "I prefer it when you can breathe properly and not spend the whole day sneezing at me."

"You're so good to me," Arthur replied.

Merlin muffled another yawned into Arthur's tee shirt and rested his cheek against Arthur to watch him read for a few minutes. They ended most days this way: a few hours of television after dinner and the washing up, then bed sometime between ten and eleven, where Merlin would fall asleep curled in next to Arthur, who would read for a couple hours before he went to sleep. Lately, it was mystery novels, and Arthur was currently in the middle of re-reading everything Agatha Christie had ever written, claiming it helped his mind reset before he had to sit down and do his own writing for the next day.

Merlin thought, secretly, that Arthur's next project would be a novel. He'd been doing poetry for so long, with the occasional short story, but lately it seemed like he'd been revolving different ideas in his mind, drawing them out for Merlin on the evenings they didn't watch television. Maybe it would be a mystery, and the only reason Merlin didn't mention that idea to Arthur himself was because he wanted to be surprised when he finally read that first draft of the book he knew Arthur was going to write someday. He knew, when he saw Arthur's ideas and words flash brilliant on the page, he could still be caught unaware.

That sort of unpredictable would be good.

The life they had now was… comfortable. Nice. A bit predictable, and Merlin would never have anticipated that he and Arthur would've reached predictability. He'd been so uncertain about their relationship in its earliest days; that uncertainty, however, wasn't something he would want back.

The predictable pattern of the days they spent together was good. Merlin could deal with that. Sleepy and contented was good, too, and he could tell his mind was starting to go blurry as Arthur continued to stroke his hair.

"What would we _do_ with a puppy?"

"Puppy things. Play with it. Pet it. Teach it and take it for walks in the park. Are you really unhappy with the idea?" Arthur asked, sounding a lot more hurt than Merlin had expected he would.

"What? No, I just…" Merlin pillowed his head against Arthur. "Can't figure out why you suddenly want one. Or where we'd put one in this flat."

"Oh." Arthur quieted down for a while, and only the sound of pages being turned filtered through Merlin's drowsy mind. "We'll talk about it tomorrow? When you're not ready to start drooling on me."

"Huh? Oh… m'not." Merlin roused himself enough to sit up and blink at Arthur for a couple seconds. "What?"

Arthur shook his head, leaned in to kiss Merlin's forehead, and pressed his mouth to Merlin's for warm, slow kiss. "Goodnight, sleepyhead."

+

The intended conversation about puppy-ownership got lost in the shuffle of early mornings at the library for Merlin and manuscript submission deadlines for Arthur. He'd spent the last two years in cafes and other quiet places working his way through a volume of poetry, writing and rewriting, returning home late in the evening with notebooks full of crossed out words and intricate lists of cross-references to other things Arthur had written.

The final products, the polished sets of verses on neat, handwritten on clean sheets of fine paper, those were what Merlin read. In them he could read Arthur, in every line and word and blank space, and would have loved them for that alone.

Merlin wondered if maybe Arthur wanted a pet to fill the space that would be left when the book of verse was finally finished and published. It had taken up so much of his life, and had taken so much out of him – Merlin could remember the nights when Arthur wouldn't sleep, the days when he wouldn't eat, almost feverish with the desire to shape language to fit emotion and experience – that Merlin couldn't imagine him taking on another project like that immediately.

Or, perhaps he could. One of the other things he loved about Arthur was how he practically wrote himself into Merlin's life, how he crammed their already book-filled flat with his journals, with notebooks as full of postcards and hastily torn scraps of paper as they were of pages of his penmanship. Between the two of them, there was an ever expanding library in their flat, bookshelves spilling over onto the floor, just like Arthur's notebooks spilled papers onto his desk, and, Merlin imagined, like Arthur's mind, spilling poetry and twisting words into all his thoughts.

+

By late Friday morning in the children's section of the library the computers and printers had decided to work again, the collapsing set of shelves in the stacks had been repaired, and Merlin had displays, paperwork, and tiny children to worry over.

"No more daschunds?"

Merlin glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Good morning to you, too. And, no, no puppies this morning. What about you? Still library stalking old girlfriends?"

"No, because I never started doing any such thing." Gwen waited until Merlin cleared a spot on his workspace, then put her coffee down carefully and picked up one of the board books that had just arrived. "This looks adorable."

"Doesn't it? That's one of the things for the Bookstart program that I was telling you about. I've got loads of new stuff, and I just went through the things for really little ones, that you should take a look at when you have time."

"Hm. Is there anything I can borrow? I mean, of course there are things I can borrow, it being the library. That is what we do. I just meant – stuff I can take home and look over?"

"Sure, but, remember that conversation we had about bringing work home? And how it's not a good thing?" Merlin finished off the email he was writing and swiveled his chair around to face Gwen.

"I hardly think board books are going to push me into dangerous territory."

"It'll start with the board books, then move to encyclopedias and database cataloguing. I know you prep for meetings at home."

Gwen shook her head in the way she always did when she was trying not to laugh at Merlin while they were at work. She continued to flip through the brightly colored book, pausing to outline bold letters and numbers with the tip of one finger. "It's easier sometimes, to bring the work home than to stay here for hours and hours after we close. I don't have an Arthur to look after, unlike some people."

"Count yourself lucky."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Today I do."

"I really don't think you do. Generally, anyway."

Merlin considered for a second. Arthur was picking him up from work today, like he usually did on Fridays. "No, I suppose I don't. Though I don't know if you need another workaholic in your life aside from yourself. Which reminds me – " Merlin stopped to glance at clock " – we have fifteen minutes, during which you're going to continue the conversation we started via text yesterday."

"Oh. Oh, god." Gwen put the board book down, but picked up her coffee cup and half hid behind it. "I didn't think you'd actually reply."

"We were just watching boring telly. What happened?"

Gwen shrugged and took a sip from her coffee. Last night, in the middle of one of the random crime dramas that Arthur really loved watching and that Merlin seemed to always find himself falling asleep during, Gwen had texted that she'd gone out for coffee after work, that it had been with Morgana, and that it was a coffee date but not a date-date.

Which, at the time that he'd received them, had confused Merlin utterly. He'd sent back a series of question marks and told Gwen he loved her but had no idea what she was talking about, and had received no reply after that from her.

"Come on, Gwen. If it was really good, I want to know. And," Merlin added, reaching over to rub Gwen's shoulder through the soft knit of what he knew was her favorite purple cardigan, "if it wasn't so good, I really need to know."

"Right. So, since we only have fifteen minutes and that's not quite enough for you to ask me a whole lot of embarrassing questions – "

" – which I wouldn't do – "

" – here's what happened."

\+ +

 

It had begun this way:

They met for coffee one evening.

Gwen had a mocha, Morgana had tea, and they sat in the student union's cafe until fifteen minutes before closing time and the world outside their window seat was dark.

Morgana wore black, a strappy top that edged along the delicate curve of her shoulders and that looked much too thin for the late summer evening. Gwen felt odd, almost awkward in her own shirt and jeans, wondered if the little yellow tee shirt had been the wrong choice for a first date with another girl, fingered the hem of her shirt when Morgana asked her question after question, like she was really _that_ interested in Gwen.

Her hands were warm, and her hair was soft and had a clean, fresh scent to it when Gwen leaned in to kiss her at the end of the night. It only took a few minutes for Gwen to learn that all of Morgana felt warm, from the slide of her palms down Gwen's back to the press of her thigh between Gwen's.

She was beautiful, a strange combination of bold confidence and secret, shrinking insecurities, and part of Gwen's heart already belonged to Morgana after that first evening together.

They went out again, and again, to the cinema and to other cafes, to parties and the weird, little, out of the way pubs that Morgana decided she, Gwen, and Arthur needed to visit. By the end of their first term at uni, she and Morgana were sleeping together; by the end of their first year, they'd decided to live together; by the end of their last term, they'd broken up twice. When they left university, they put their relationship on summer hiatus while Gwen attempted to date other people and Morgana to live with her step-sister in New York. At the end of the summer, they ended up getting a flat together in Carlisle.

Maybe they shouldn't've done all that; maybe they tried too hard too soon, and maybe they should've just let each other go after those first few months. Gwen knew, at some point during one of their off-periods in the years after uni, that she'd only ever given part of her heart to Morgana.

What hurt was that it was the same part that Morgana took with her when she left Carlisle and left Gwen.

When it ended, it ended like this:

Morgana walked into the library, placed a stack of books on the counter, and smiled the rare, silent smile she sometimes did, the one that touched her eyes and brightened them for longer than the smile itself lasted.

She touched Gwen's hand lightly, asked her out for coffee, and before they parted for the evening, asked her if they could try it all again.

+

Gwen kept her eyes trained on the forms in front of her when she heard the door open and the subsequent sound of footsteps leading up to the circulation desk.

She would be able to recognize them should five more years pass – the sharp, quick pace of Morgana's footsteps, the certainty in her step, the slight hesitation as she got near the desk and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

Gwen smiled to herself and held her own fear, anticipation, and uncertainty tight behind that smile. She took a breath, braced herself as if for something great, and looked up. "Hello."

"Hello. I know I'm early, I hope that's not a bother?"

"Oh, no, it's not. Well, as long as you don't mind watching me finish up for the evening."

Morgana smiled, an oddly shy smile that Gwen couldn't remember ever having seen on her before, and shook her head. She'd come straight from the uni, as she had when they'd met for coffee the other day, dressed in a crisp, white blouse and slim, black trousers under a long, black coat. She wore less make-up now than she did back when she and Gwen were in uni, less dramatic eyeliner anyway. She wore the same silver jewelry, though, and had kept all the piercings in her ears.

She'd been beautiful in a breathtaking, almost brash, way back at uni; she looked older now, less frenzied, still beautiful.

"Of course not. Wait until you stop by my office at work – I'll have to excavate you a space to sit amongst the piles of paper and unpacked boxes of books."

Gwen stacked a pile of forms and placed them aside before glancing back up at Morgana. "Oh, is it really that bad? Actually, no, it probably _is_ that bad, or even worse than I'm imagining. I remember – " Gwen's breath caught at the sudden, soft look on Morgana's face. "I just meant…"

"I know. Me too. I remember, too, and I've been remembering so much these past few days," Morgana replied. "I'd like you to see my office. If you wanted to visit, that would be wonderful."

"I do want to. It's so strange, to have you back. Not bad strange, but it's different. I want to see your office," Gwen finished, feeling a little bit foolish and a little bit scared.

"Good. Just give me a chance to tidy up the worst of it." She smiled, and rested her elbows on the circulation desk, close enough that Gwen could smell the light, sweet scent of her perfume.

Close enough that if Gwen slid her hand across the desk, she'd be able to touch Morgana, to run her palm down the length of Morgana's arm or reach up to sweep Morgana's hair off her shoulder. Warmth and memory and desire flushed through Gwen. She could imagine how the cool air probably clung to Morgana's hair and clothes, and how her skin would be warm and the touch of her mouth against Gwen's would be even warmer, damp and yielding when Gwen would slide the edge of her tongue against Morgana's lips.

It would be the work of only a few seconds, Gwen knew that, and yet she somehow found it inside herself to resist the urge to just touch Morgana.

"Coffee?" she asked, drawing back to start putting on her coat and scarf.

"Coffee." Morgana drew back, too, her breath catching on the word.

+

"Did you talk to Arthur yet?"

"I wanted to see you first," Morgana replied. She had coffee again today instead of tea, something with lots of milk, sugar, and a couple extra shots of caffeine.

She used to love drinking coffee, loved the scent and taste of it, and used to brew a pot of it in the evenings and be able to fall asleep even after having had a cup or two. Gwen remembered, and the memory brought a smile to her lips; Morgana liked her coffee sweet, liked it hot and strong, and it was a reminder that with all the things that had changed between them, with all the ways that they had changed, there were still some things that Gwen knew about Morgana.

"Oh. I did mention to Merlin –"

"—who mentioned to Arthur, of course. No worries. It wasn't supposed to be some big event. I just wanted you to be the first person I saw when I came home."

Gwen had intended to ask Morgana about her new job at the uni, how her office organization and decoration were coming along, maybe about her new flat and the plans she had for the next few weeks now that she'd moved back to Carlisle. Yet, even with those good intentions in mind, she leaned forward closer to Morgana and asked, "What made you decide to come back?"

Morgana glanced away for a moment, gazing at the barista as she chalked up the new specials on the board behind the counter, and shrugged. "I saw the job advertisement a couple months ago, and thought maybe I ought to try for it. I hadn't thought about moving back here, not in any real way, and not in any way that made me think it would happen so soon. But I saw the job advertised, and then I thought I might be ready."

"Are you?" Gwen took a sip from her own coffee, grateful that most of her meetings with Morgana thus far had featured soothing beverages. "Do you feel ready?"

Morgana was quiet for a while, then glanced back to Gwen with a sudden, intense expression on her face. "I don't know; I feel like if I'd waited another year, or another five or ten years, I wouldn't know. But I'm glad to be here."

"Me, too. I mean, I am glad to be here, with the coffee and with you. And I'm glad you're here, that you're home again. I wasn't sure that I would be, but now that I've seen you again…" Gwen's voiced trailed off and she held Morgana's gaze for as long as she could, until all the anxiety, all the anticipation and uncertainty she had felt when Morgana first returned to Carlisle seemed to transform to an unnameable desire, and she said, without thinking, "Have dinner with me. Tonight, or tomorrow night, or this weekend."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Me, either," Gwen admitted, "but I'm asking you anyway."

Morgana smiled briefly. "This weekend, then. Friday. And we're not trying to date each other again."

"No, of course not. Just dinner."

"Just dinner."

\+ +

 

"Friday night's not the most popular for the library, is it?"

"Hm, no, and you've been here on Friday evening before, so don't try and sound clever," Merlin replied without looking up from his book until he'd finished the page he was on. He turned when the sofa creaked and Arthur settled in next to him. "Hey."

"Hey, you." Arthur leaned in to peer over Merlin's shoulder and read along with him for about half a page. "I'm late, aren't I?"

"What? Oh. Maybe? I wasn't keeping track. It really is quiet in here tonight, so I started going through next week's books, and got distracted, I suppose."

Arthur made a quiet, little sound and rested his head against Merlin's shoulder for a second. He had that damp, clean, still-soapy scent about him that told Merlin he'd only just showered before coming to fetch Merlin, which in turn told Merlin that Arthur had spent the rest of the day, from the time when he got out of bed to when he showered and left the flat, writing.

"We should get some dinner. Takeaway?"

Merlin let himself shift in closer to Arthur. "Did you even eat today?"

"I did. Toast. This morning. You know what it's like, when you start working, and don't tell me you don't, because you absolutely have that tired, been at work too long, only had soup for lunch sort of look about you."

"Hm. I might allow you the part about me being tired after having been at work longer than usual." Merlin closed the young adult fiction book he'd been leafing through and started to stack up the other books that were around the sofa area. "Why don't we go out to eat? You've been writing all week, and I've been here practically all day."

"What do you feel like having?"

"Mexican? Wait, no." Merlin stopped, put his pile of books on a table, and turned to Arthur while he thought. "Gwen's going out with Morgana tonight for Mexican."

"Gwen's –"

"Yeah, hold on. They might be going to El Toro. So we should avoid Mexican and thereby avoid awkward encounters."

"You _excel_ at awkward social encounters."

"Ah, yes, but you? You really don't." Arthur went a bit incredulous and offended at that, but Merlin rested a hand on his arm to try and urge him up off the sofa. "We'll go to Panico's, and get expensive, indulgent food, and you'll let me pick out the wine, then I'll rub your back when we get home, all right?"

"All right. I approve of that plan." The look on Arthur's face softened and his head rested against Merlin's shoulder for another moment before he turned to brush a kiss against the side of Merlin's neck.

It was just a brief touch, though, and didn't last long enough for Merlin to have to remind Arthur again that they were in the library and that, generally, making out in the children's section wasn't the best of ideas. "Good," Merlin said and gave Arthur a little nudge off the sofa so they could get ready to go.

And it had been a good plan, Merlin thought, until he found himself sitting across from Arthur in the restaurant and Arthur had brought up the idea of the two of them buying a house.

A whole house. For the two of them. What would they even put in a house?

"Wait. You can't just decide to buy a house," Merlin said and waved a spear of asparagus at Arthur. "Is this about the puppy? The _hypothetical_ puppy," he added quickly.

"No. Yes, well, no, but sort of. You were the one who said we'd need a house and a garden if we wanted a puppy."

"_If_ we wanted a puppy, right. But we haven't made a decision about that yet." Merlin stabbed at another asparagus spear. "We haven't even talked about that decision yet."

"That," Arthur pointed out, "is not my fault. I tried to talk to you."

"When I'm trying to sleep! You know I'm useless then. And you know how terrible the early morning conversations about important things go. We end up snipping at each other over email the whole day."

With a tight sigh, Arthur folded his arms over his chest and a frown etched itself into his face. He watched Merlin for a minute, maybe expecting Merlin to say something else that would magically make the conversation easier for the both of them, and ended up looking down at his largely untouched meal when Merlin remained silent.

Merlin already knew all of Arthur's moods – knew the rare, explosive anger that only seemed to occur when he was made to feel hurt and vulnerable by those he trusted, he knew the bright, effusive moments and the silent, brooding ones; he's seen Arthur hurt and sick and exhausted as many times as he'd seen him energetic and sleepy and satisfied.

And Merlin knew this, too, the tense, quiet frustration in which Arthur closed himself when he didn't want to or know how to sort out his emotions.

"Don't you sometimes want more?" Arthur asked softly, staring down at his own dinner instead of at Merlin.

"More… what?"

"I don't mean that our relationship _needs_ something more, that it needs a house or a puppy or anything like that." He put his fork down and rubbed at his face. "I don't know how to say what I mean. I want those things with you, I want us to buy a house together and I know we said we didn't want children, but I think we'd do all right with a small dog."

"But if we put the obtaining of pets off for a while, we might not need to think about getting a house. Our flat is nice. We've been living there for what, three years?"

"Nearly four."

"Nearly four," Merlin amended. "Well, longer for you, I suppose."

"And when you moved in, we said it would only be for a couple years and that we'd find someplace better. A couple years have passed."

"And the flat is fine. A bit crowded, but we also said we didn't mind all the books and shelves."

Arthur picked his fork back up to prod at his fancy pasta dish. "I don't mind. I love having all your books and my books around me when I'm writing. I love how it feels like we both really live there."

"We _do_. It's our flat even if was just yours to start with." Merlin ate quietly for a few minutes while Arthur pretended to do the same, then finally put his own fork down and leaned across the table. "What's really bothering you? Arthur, what's wrong?"

"You really don't –" he started, paused to frown, and gathered himself up again, "You really don't want more? For us? For our life together?"

"What…" Something strange and heavy sank inside Merlin. "What would I want? I'm happy. I thought _we_ were happy. Everything's been going so well – your book, and work, and we had such a nice time on holiday this past summer and we leave each other notes on the fridge and I'm happy." They'd only gone to London for a week, but it had been fantastic. Lots of walking, lots of museums, lots of late mornings in tiny cafes after having been nuzzled awake by Arthur. "Are you not happy?"

"No. I mean…" Arthur put the fork back down yet again with a sharp sound and just rubbed both hands over his face. "I am. Happy. I just feel like I want something. Something more than this."

"Someone –"

"No. Oh god, no, Merlin." Arthur reached across the table to rest the palm of his hand over the back of Merlin's. "No. Please don't think that. This isn't the sort of conversation where either something changes or I leave. Oh god, no, I couldn't," he added in a small voice.

The odd, heavy thing inside Merlin shifted a little, became lighter and less cold. He let Arthur hold onto his hand as long as he wanted, and when Arthur's grip eased, he suggested they finish dinner at home.

\+ +

 

"You should look at these." Morgana slid one of the boxes from the coffee table into her lap and peered inside. "If you're interested, that is. They'll probably tell you more about my life these past five years than I ever could. Here, it's all right, take it."

Gwen stared at the box that Morgana placed in her lap for a few minutes without making any move to examine its contents. There were tickets and postcards, scraps of paper and well-worn notebooks, a couple travel guides, post-its notes folded in half to hide the sticky side, index cards, and paper napkins with notes scrawled across them.

Dinner had been nice. They'd had drinks and starters and shared each other's meals, spicy food and sweet fizzy drinks in a warm restaurant that had seated them at a table so small that each time she moved, Gwen brushed against Morgana.

It had been so easy, for those few hours, to just talk and to pretend that the woman whose shoulder pressed against Gwen's as she reached across the table wasn't the same woman who had walked out of Gwen's life five years ago or that she wasn't the same woman Gwen had hurt in so many smaller ways in the years leading up to that moment when Morgana left.

It had been so easy to think to herself that although they'd made it clear that the dinner together wasn't a date, it felt like one. A good one. The sort where all the warm, spicy, fizzing feelings made their way through Gwen's body each time Morgana laughed or each time their fingers touched.

This, though, this was different. A heavier warmth settled over Gwen and she bit her lip as she glanced down into the box. This was Morgana's life, the one she had with Gwen years ago and the one she'd made for herself before she came back to Carlisle.

Gwen gingerly picked up one of the napkins and tried to discern what Morgana had written. It was a quote from something, a poem that Gwen had never read, and Morgana had recorded the date beneath the quote: 19 March 2007, 6.53am. She tried to think of what she'd been doing on that day, at that time. Probably sleeping, actually. Three years ago – she'd already been working at the library at that point.

Whilst trying to remember what her own life had been like approximately three years ago, Gwen was struck with the sudden memory that Morgana was a writer. Not like Arthur was a writer, not poetry and short stories, but she wrote. She wrote all the time; snippets of ideas and quotes she recalled, conversations she'd heard or had or imagined, the great outlines for books she'd someday write – Morgana wrote all of that.

She was a writer, and Gwen had forgotten.

She hadn't written to Gwen in more than five years.

"I don't know this poem," Gwen said, and put the scrap of paper back in the box.

"It's Aphra Behn. Remind me to find the whole poem for you at some point." Morgana moved in closer to Gwen to pull something out of the box to show her, but drew back when Gwen pushed the box back towards her.

"You left," Gwen said, unable to keep the hurt from her voice, "you just decided to leave one day."

"You didn't even want to be in a relationship – not with me, not with anyone." Morgana looked away, the muted lamplight framing her face and shoulders and softening all her edges. "I couldn't stay."

"Couldn't you?"

"How? When it always felt like you were ready to leave me?" Morgana's hair fell into her face and she pushed it away, roughly.

"You know that's not true. I wasn't ready… I wasn't ready for you then. I hardly knew what it meant to be ready to have you in my life, and, then, when I thought I did, you were gone."

Morgana remained turned away from Gwen, silent, close enough once more that if Gwen reached over, she could brush a few strands of dark hair off Morgana's shoulder. She was so close now, closer than she'd been in years, close enough for Gwen to touch her and talk to her, close enough for her to see that Morgana, too, had felt the years slowly bring them back together somehow.

And then, suddenly, all Gwen wanted was to be away from here; to be at work, surrounded by the quiet of the stacks, or at home, where she had her own bookshelves and unmade bed with its red and purple fleece blanket, or even at Merlin and Arthur's, where they'd cook dinner and watch telly and not talk about the strange events of the past two weeks if she didn't want to talk about them.

Any of those places – _all_ of those places – had to be better than this close, warm one where Gwen couldn't seem to control the desire to find out once more how smooth Morgana's skin would feel beneath her fingertips, how soft her mouth would be when they kissed, how her body would curve into Gwen's as if they were meant to fit together.

"I… I should go."

"Gwen…" Morgana caught her hand fast and firm.

"Just for tonight. I want to…" Gwen paused and closed her eyes for a second. What did she want? What was she allowed to want from Morgana or from herself or from this whole situation? "… I want to see you again," she said, softly, and tightened her fingers around Morgana's.

"We can do that."

"I want to stop thinking about the past," she said in a softer voice and let herself hold Morgana's hand for a few minutes. "And how we pushed each other away."

Morgana brought Gwen's hand to her mouth and just held it there, kissed the back of her knuckles, and said, "We can do that, too."

\+ +

 

Merlin stumbled out of bed, stumbled into the shower, and by the time he was on his way to the kitchen to make coffee, he'd made it past the stumbling and into the more coherent part of his morning.

Not the completely coherent part, apparently, though. When he found Arthur in front of the coffee pot instead of his usual good-morning post-it note from Arthur on the fridge, Merlin blinked and made what was definitely an incoherent noise.

"Morning," Arthur said. Which wasn't fair – he ought to be the one who was non-verbal at this time of day. He was bed-rumpled, his hair a mess and his robe thrown over the pajama bottoms he'd worn to bed last night. "Here. Coffee. It's quite hot."

"…. g'mornin'?" Merlin tried to nudge Arthur away from the coffee pot, then blinked again when Arthur handed him a cup of coffee. "Oh. You. Thanks."

"You're welcome. I thought, since I was awake, I might as well be useful." He smiled, and rested a hand on Merlin's back to guide him to the kitchen table, where Arthur's own cup already sat. "Cereal? Toast?"

"Cereal. The Weetabix?" Merlin added sugar and milk to his coffee and watched it swirl around as he stirred. He couldn't actually remember the last time Arthur got up this early of his own volition and that in and of itself was worrisome. "Arthur? Couldn't you – thanks," he said as Arthur put a bowl of cereal and milk in front of him, "Couldn't you sleep?"

Arthur shrugged. He looked worn out, but then, ever since that night at the restaurant, they both did. They hadn't been fighting, but Merlin had felt so confused, and Arthur had looked so hurt after that evening at Panico's, and when they'd come home and tried talking again, they'd only run into the same difficulties.

Arthur wanted some indefinable more for their relationship, but his reluctance to detail those feelings made it incredibly difficult for Merlin to give him what it was he seemed to want so badly.

Not, Merlin knew, that he was some sort of victim in this. He didn't want to go through the process of buying a house if they could remain here in the flat and as for getting a puppy, well, he really had no clue why Arthur even wanted one. And he was getting impatient with trying to figure out what was keeping Arthur up at night, what small, sad thing had crept into Arthur's heart and was hurting him in a way that Merlin could not seem to solve.

Merlin looked up from his cereal to see Arthur rubbing at his eyes. "Arthur, you need to sleep."

"I am."

"You are not. Or not enough," he amended before Arthur could object.

"I'm trying. But I'm getting a lot of writing done, so it's all right."

"But it's not. You look shattered."

"But I'm writing," Arthur pointed out again. He'd made himself tea, and was adding milk to it before taking a few small, slow sips.

There wasn't much Merlin could say to that. After having lived through Arthur's bouts of writer's block and the heavy, dark periods of insecurity he went through, the insomniac periods weren't quite as bad. They certainly weren't good – Arthur really did need to sleep, he'd end up taking ill and not be able to do much of anything, much less write, for a while after that.

"Try and rest while I'm at work. And ring me at the desk or email me at my work address if you need anything." Merlin rested his hands on Arthur's shoulders after standing up from the kitchen table and squeezed gently.

"I might cook dinner. How do you feel about chicken?"

"Hm. I feel fine about chicken."

"Don't do any overtime, then. I'll have dinner ready."

Arthur peered up at Merlin through his mussed fringe, then ducked his head down to let Merlin nose through his hair. They were quiet for a while, and Merlin let himself bask in the bed-warm scent of Arthur's hair, how intimate and familiar it was, and how Merlin had come to love it over the past few years.

Merlin nuzzled against Arthur a bit more and slipped his arms around Arthur's shoulders. When Arthur leaned back into him and gave a quiet, sleepy hum, something that had been painfully tight inside Merlin unwound enough to make him sigh against Arthur and kiss the top of his head.

"Maybe I'll try and come home early."

Arthur hummed again, the sound deep and soft, and looked up to smile at Merlin. "I'd like that."

The moment held between them, quiet and calm, and Merlin let himself lean in closer to Arthur, to kiss the side of his head and to watch him drink his tea. For the past few days, an uncomfortable tension had threaded through their interactions, drawing their conversations up short and cutting into the easy affection they tended to have with each other. Aside from Arthur's current insomnia, he'd also taken to sorting out the books in the flat, madly organizing the bookshelves in the sitting room and bedroom in addition to the ones in his study.

Merlin had opted to take on the early morning or late evening overtime at work, and the spillover of Arthur's desire to set everything in order was that the children's area in the library was, quite possibly, less of a tip than it had been in all the time that Merlin had been working there.

Not that Merlin was spending all his spare moments trying to match the organization that Arthur was implementing at home. Most of the time, he was reading. Reading through all the books that came past his desk at the library, reading through all the books that Arthur left off the shelves and the ones that he left on the edges of tables and chairs, reading through all of Arthur's old writings, the long poems and short prose pieces that made their way into the university literary magazine, the slim collection of short stories that he published at the end of his master's degree work, the journal Arthur had kept the month they lived apart that one summer years ago.

"I'll be home early," Merlin said, murmuring the words and then a kiss over Arthur's ear. "And I'll walk back, so I'll see you when I get home, yeah?"

Arthur's hand rested atop Merlin's and he tipped his head up to brush his mouth over Merlin's. "Come home as early as you can. And I'll see you then," he added before letting Merlin pull away.

Merlin stroked Arthur's fringe back off his forehead and touched the side of his face, leaned in to kiss the taste of warm tea from his mouth. Maybe all the books he'd read and all the words Arthur had written in the past few days could never answer all the questions they had for each other, and maybe Merlin would never be able to fully understand what it was that either of them had expected from their life together when they first met, what that strange, intangible much desired thing was that kept them reaching. Yet he knew this, that the tension between them was easing, and that while Arthur might find himself wanting more, Merlin could not imagine a life with less than what he had now with Arthur.

+

When Merlin was twenty-three, he had moved from Ealdor to Carlisle, hoping to get away from a small town with even smaller opportunities. He had wanted a job, and a master's degree in library studies, and the chance to live in a place where he could submerge himself in semi-anonymity. Carlisle wasn't a great city, not like London was, but it was big enough, and different enough from the tiny, almost rural community that Ealdor was.

After three months at Carlisle, just when the weather was turning from the chill of autumn to the brittle cold of winter, Merlin met Arthur. The morning was cold and damp, and Merlin had folded himself up at table in the back of a small, dim cafe to drink coffee and try and figure out if he was satisfied with his relative anonymity in a city that would never know him as well as he was coming to know it. He'd been half-miserable with loneliness and cold, half relishing his misery, and wholly surprised to see a man standing next to his table and wondering if the other seat at it was taken.

And, for the first time since he'd left Ealdor, Merlin had felt himself unfold, while inside him the desire to be known also began to unfold.

+

"Arthur? I'm... _oh._" Merlin lowered his voice to a whisper and carefully toed off his shoes, set down his keys, and slipped out of his coat and scarf.

He'd begged Gwen to let him leave at four-thirty, and some sort library miracle happened where he was allowed to leave at four instead. The few texts he'd sent Arthur during his walk back to the flat received no reply and Merlin had figured Arthur was too busy with dinner to notice.

The kitchen certainly looked – and smelled – like he had been busy; the sink was full of dishes that needed washing up, and the worktop had a few bits and pieces still on it. Arthur had already done the salad and set the bowl in the fridge, and the roast was out of the oven, covered with tinfoil. They were probably going to have rice instead of potatoes, and they would've had wine if Arthur had texted Merlin back.

Merlin gave the kitchen a cursory tidying-up, snuck back into the sitting room, and knelt down next to the sofa. He watched Arthur for a few minutes while he dozed, just taking all of him in: the sprawl of his body over the cushions, clad in jeans and white button-up shirt, the scent of his soap and aftershave, the slight parting of his lips and the slope of his nose.

Leaning in close, Merlin brushed his mouth over Arthur's and did so again until he felt Arthur begin to stir awake.

"Hey... dinner smells fabulous. So do you, by the way." Merlin stroked Arthur's side through the fabric of his shirt and moved in to kiss him again.

"Mm... s'early?" Arthur blinked himself fully awake, sat up halfway, then eased back down, muzzy from day-sleeping, when Merlin moved in even nearer. "You're being affectionate."

Merlin nodded. "I can't help it. This reminds me of all those afternoons you spent napping in my dodgy bedsit when you were doing that novel draft." His lips touched to Arthur's again, lightly enough that Merlin could feel the faint flutter of his breath, and lingered there to kiss the corner of Arthur's mouth, then the swell of his lower lip. "We've been so stupid, Arthur."

That got Arthur to shrink from him, fully awake now, rubbing his face and frowning. "Wait. What are you saying?"

"Shh, no, don't... stay close?" Merlin's hand skimmed down the length of Arthur's side and up under the hem of his shirt until he found warm, clean skin to stroke. "I just mean... these past few days? While we've been trying to talk about this strangeness between us?"

Arthur looked wary, his jaw about to set in that tight, painful way that meant he was frightened or nervous or worried. Merlin leaned in to kiss his cheek and nuzzle the side of his face to stop it from happening, wishing he could stop every moment of fear or worry or anxiety for Arthur.

"I've been so stupid. Thinking you wanted a dog, or a house, because ... because you were bored, because your latest book was finished and you needed something to do. Thinking I wasn't enough – we weren't enough – for you." Merlin paused to rest his cheek against Arthur; after a few silent moments, the pattern of his breathing matched Arthur's, and Merlin grazed his lips against Arthur's skin once more. "I thought, because I didn't need those things, that you didn't either. I didn't think, when I met you five years ago, that we'd settle down together. And then we did, and that was enough for me." Merlin stopped again and drew back from Arthur a few inches. "But it's not the same for you?"

Arthur frowned again, no longer tense, but thoughtful. "I wouldn't say that I've been _stupid. _ I didn't know how to tell you, how to say all the things that went through my mind when it seemed you didn't want to move on from here. I thought... I always worried you'd leave me first."

Merlin shook his head. "See, now that's completely stupid of you. You know -"

"I do know. I just wanted some mark, some object, something to represent it all, to remind me that you weren't going to leave, not now, not anytime that you could predict in the future. And," Arthur let his breathe out with a gust, "I should've told you all that weeks ago."

"Or I could've paid some more attention. I suppose catching you when you were vulnerable and half-asleep and after I'd had a few days to think facilitated the discussion." Arthur looked about to frown again, so Merlin slid his hand further up his side until he found that little sensitive spot around Arthur's ribcage and petted with the tip of one finger. "Can I show you? How very much I want to stay with you for a very, very long time?"

The frown hovered over Arthur's features. "We'll work on this, right? We'll work on talking about the future? Because I'm bad at that, or we're bad at it, or maybe we really are just kind of stupid about certain things. I feel like I've written so much lately and when I try to tell you, all the words are too big or loud or wrong."

Merlin knelt back away from the sofa, but kept his hand on Arthur to feel the reassuring warmth of his body. "Yeah. Yeah, we will. And we can start talking about getting a house. You were right; we really did think about doing that a couple years ago. I have no idea what we'd do with a whole house," Merlin admitted, wary himself now, "but I want to try, because I want everything that comes next with you."

"Show me, then. Show me what comes next." Arthur pulled Merlin in, awkward and fast, until he was very very near, and their mouths were pressed so close against each other that there was no space left for even breath.

Merlin closed his eyes and kissed Arthur; he kissed him hard and urgent, like he had the first time, and then slow, and soft, and wet, like he had so many times after the first; he kissed him until he felt Arthur sigh into his mouth and he felt his own breath come short and sharp against Arthur's lips.

Arthur pulled him even closer, until he finally just stood up from the sofa and kissed Merlin right there, in the middle of their sitting room, surrounded by books and the dying afternoon light. He undid the top button of his shirt, and let Merlin take over after that, shivering at the touch of Merlin's lips against the center of his chest and of Merlin's fingertips flitting over his stomach.

This was what Merlin loved best: how he knew Arthur, how he knew he'd laugh when Merlin stroked his stomach, and how the laugh would be deep and quiet, tinged with lust, and how Arthur would try and get Merlin's jumper and tee shirt off before he could start tickling Arthur in earnest. He loved mapping the palms of his hands across Arthur's chest, and loved knowing how wide his shoulders were, how much he loved having them kissed.

He loved how he'd undress Arthur first, then himself, and how watched him undress as if it were still the most captivating, wonderful thing he'd ever seen. And how Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, drew Merlin in to stand between his legs, and leaned in to kiss Merlin's stomach. He nosed into the soft, dark hair at the base, gentle and fond, and kept pressing kisses over Merlin's skin until Merlin's hips arched up so he could feel - at the very least - the brush of Arthur's breath over his more of his body.

Arthur's thumbs slotted into the hollow of Merlin's hips to hold him still and just kept him there for a while, breath hot and damp against Merlin's skin. His hair was disheveled already and Merlin buried one hand in it, coaxing Arthur in until he rested his head against Merlin's belly.

There was desperation in the movement, not the kind they would've had years ago, but a quiet kind that pushed them to the very limit of desire, until Merlin could take the feel of Arthur breathing against his skin no longer, and until Arthur shuddered at the way Merlin's fingers tightened in his hair. Merlin tugged at Arthur's hair until he pressed in closer and they remained there, still, to let arousal thrum slow and steady between them. Arthur made a small sound, half-sigh, half-groan, and rubbed his face against Merlin. One of his hands slid to rest at the small of Merlin's back, warm and steady, and Merlin tipped his head back as arousal shivered, then flushed all through his body.

Arthur drew him in again, down onto the bed, and shifted until he could move atop Merlin and could mouth down Merlin's body, starting with his left ear. He pulled another shudder from Merlin that way, nosing against and then gently licking around the edge of his ear, then just below it. Already hard, Merlin pressed himself up against Arthur, gasped when Arthur licked down the length of his neck to his shoulder, arched up even higher when Arthur left a warm, damp trail of kisses to the edge of his hip. Then there was Arthur mouthing against the length of his erection, and Arthur stroking his hip, nudging his legs apart, crooking one leg up so he could settle in closer to Merlin.

Desperation lent a sharp edge to Merlin's senses. He could feel it all so acutely: Arthur's mouth on him, hot and wet, then the cool, slick feel of his fingers pressing inside Merlin, and the twist of arousal. Merlin pushed back against it all. Arthur made a sound that Merlin thought was meant to be soothing, but only sounded rough, hoarse and deep with the need Merlin knew kept Arthur at the edge of his own senses.

He caught up one of Arthur's hands, brought it to his mouth, and murmured 'now' against Arthur's palm.

+

At the sound of the alarm going off in the morning, Merlin reached across Arthur to shut it off, then let his arm stay around Arthur to fit his body tight against Arthur's instead of getting out of bed.

Arthur mumbled into his pillow and nestled in against Merlin, his body warm and loose with sleep. Probably tired from last night, Merlin thought as he stroked his hand over Arthur's stomach and down his hip. He kissed Arthur's shoulder and the back of his neck, nuzzled through his sex-and-sleep rumpled hair, and kissed him again when he made another mumble of a sound.

"Go back to sleep."

Arthur tried snuggling in even closer and made a sleepy sound of complaint when Merlin's body slipped away from his.

"Sleep," Merlin said again, brushing a kiss over Arthur's bed-warm skin, and tucked the blanket back over Arthur's shoulders after getting up out of bed.

The table was still set from the dinner they'd planned on having last night and Merlin blinked, bemused, at the dishes and folded cloth serviettes as he set his cup of coffee down. He'd make it up to Arthur tonight; he'd get an expensive bottle of wine and help fix dinner, and he'd make sure they both ate the dinner before they did anything else. They'd ended up with sandwiches and tea around ten o'clock last night after having spent the whole evening in bed, and while Merlin wouldn't mind another evening like that, he really did want the fancy meal at home that Arthur had planned for them both, too.

After his third sip of coffee, Merlin blinked down at the table again. Beneath the napkin on his place setting, there was a small, slim volume. It was just a few sheets of heavy paper, folded folio style inside a cover of even heavier, dark blue paper. There were no words on the cover sheet, and only a short dedication on the first recto page.

The rest of the volume was covered in Arthur's sharp, precise penmanship. A glance through the pages told Merlin that what Arthur had collected here was a series of poems, all written during the past five years, some of them ones he'd already perfected and finished, some that he'd probably hadn't looked at since he wrote them down the first time.

Merlin had read them all before, some of them when they'd only been stray words or lines, and some he'd seen go through revision after revision.

He'd never seen them like this, written out in such a careful hand, collected in one place, offered to him.

Warmth bloomed inside Merlin's chest, sudden and great, and he read the first piece over a few times, remembering the tiny cafe where Arthur had first scrawled the final line of the poem down onto a scrap of paper torn from one of Merlin's books.

Outside the dawn light was still warming the early morning air. The steam from Merlin's coffee twisted to touch his hands and wrists, and the paper of the volume he held. Merlin fingered the edge of the book, traced the letters of the dedication, and allowed himself one minute to commit the moment to memory.

Then he was rising from his seat at the table, padding back to the bedroom, setting his volume of poems down on the bookshelf in there, and slipping back into bed to put his hands and mouth all over Arthur's body, waking him up with kisses for the second time in twelve hours, promising Arthur that they had time and that nothing, nothing less than this – them together for all the years he could imagine were ahead – would be enough for him.

+

"You look happy. Not that you usually look glum, but you look really happy this morning." Gwen placed a stack of papers on Merlin's desk, glanced at him with a smile, then looked at him more carefully when he just nodded in reply. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Well. Arthur wrote for me… he wrote something for me, special. A few poems."

Gwen's look turned from concerned to fond. "He's been writing for you since he met you, Merlin. You know that, right?"

"I do. I know," Merlin replied, and the warmth in his chest expanded once more.

\+ +

 

A few weeks went by before Gwen realized she'd stopped trying to rehash her past.

It was hard, harder than Gwen had ever thought it would be, to let go of the memory of Morgana leaving. She spent the first week after their dinner thinking about Morgana too much to try and ring her or email her.

"Why don't you just talk to her again?" Arthur had asked over an oddly quiet Sunday brunch with her and Merlin.

"I wouldn't know what to say," Gwen replied, not because she didn't have anything to say, but because she felt as if she only had the wrong words and too many of them.

They could have the same conversation again, the one where she reminded Morgana that she had left one morning without telling anyone that she had planned to do so and where Morgana pointed out their relationship had had more off than on time. They'd both seen other people since then, and, fuck, Gwen had been seeing other people during of the off time in her relationship with Morgana, but nobody had ever drawn her in the way that Morgana was now.

A week of random text messages and emails followed the week of silence, featuring a series of short hesitant messages, hope and uncertainty and maybe some anticipation underlying all the words. At the end of that week, Morgana sent Gwen a letter in her loose, loopy penmanship that talked a little of her past and her time without Gwen, but for the most part detailed what she had been doing during the two weeks that they were spending on not seeing each other right now.

Details of her day, what courses she was teaching and what business the Women's Center was up to that term; the recipes she'd tried from the books she had borrowed from the library and her opinions on the Depressing Lesbian Love Stories.

(Which, Gwen noted, turned out to be only about half as depressing as Merlin feared, though now that he'd been coming to work all smiles and quiet happiness, she couldn't find it in her to try and get him to sit down and watch even a semi-depressing love story.)

By the time she made it through the fourteen-page letter and then made it through the rest of her work day, Gwen decided she'd had enough. She was tired of waiting for the right words to come to her while Morgana seemed to have decided she'd just go and share all the words that came to _her_ mind with Gwen.

She could do that, too. She could go to Morgana and say, _here, here are the things I have to say and I don't know how to say them, but I'm going to try my best because I think we might really be listening to each other this time. _

She left work early on Friday afternoon, left the library front desk in the hands of Gaius, and walked through the chilly, winter afternoon to the university campus. It had been years she'd been there; the last time she'd visited the campus was when Merlin was working on his master's thesis and he'd needed somebody to complain to who wasn't Arthur. Most of her time had been spent here as a student, and the tug of nostalgia was strong enough to cover her nervousness until she reached the door to the Women's Center.

The office was warmer than the library, and a little stuffy, and Morgana looked surprised when she turned from the spread of papers on her desk to find Gwen standing in front of her.

"Um. Hi?" Gwen tried, realized she sounded ridiculous, and kept going anyway. "I just… needed to talk to you. To say hello, and to tell you that I loved your letter and your texts and I really think we need to have coffee together soon because I've been missing you and I think I sound really ridiculous but here I am anyway. Hi."

The room went really quiet after Gwen's hurried monologue. Her resolve began to weaken, and Gwen thought about turning around and walking out, or maybe picking up one of the odd gizmos or papery bits from Morgana's desk and starting to play with that, when Morgana's hands rested over hers to still them.

"I think you're absolutely right. In fact, I could do with a break." Morgana grabbed her coat and scarf, tidied the papers on her desk, and walked Gwen out into the hallway. Her hands slid over Gwen's once more and Morgana held them tight for a breathless second. "Thank you."

"For… for what? I just walked into your office and…"

"… and asked me out. It was – I don't know – rather brilliant." Morgana squeezed Gwen's hands for another second and she only let go to slip on her coat and wrap her scarf around her neck. "Thank you for coming by, really. I was worried I was annoying you."

"I didn't think I was doing any better. All my emails sounded so awkward. It's so different."

"It is." As they walked out of the building into the cold, clear afternoon, Gwen reached for one of Morgana's hands. "I think I like different."

"I think I like how you think."

+

They had coffee, then dinner, on Friday, and coffee again on Sunday morning, then early Monday and Tuesday morning before work, until it became a habit. Coffee in the morning together, lunch every so often during the week, and a nice, non-anxiety ridden dinner on Saturday night that ended with Gwen making her way home past midnight after having spent most of the evening curled up with Morgana on her sofa.

On the following Tuesday, Morgana brought papers to mark and Gwen had wrestled a few books from the shelves for young adult fiction from Merlin, reminding him that she did read for pleasure sometimes, too.

"Why don't you come out with us one evening? Dinner or drinks. Just you and I, and Arthur and Merlin," Gwen added when Morgana looked up, confused. "It'll be mellow."

Morgana thought for a while, doodling in the corner of her notebook, and smiled when Gwen asked her again. "All right. Just drinks this time, though. I don't want it to be… Just something casual, you know? That would be all right. And then you and I can have dinner, maybe."

"That's fine. And, I promise, it really will be mellow. And you like Merlin all right, don't you? Those thirty minutes we all spent together having vaguely awkward tea and conversation on Sunday weren't so bad."

"Merlin's sweet. And Arthur _dotes_ on him. It's sort of revolting, actually."

"I think they're going through a random honeymoon phase. Expect houses and puppies and maybe an actual honeymoon in the near future."

Morgana grimaced at the thought, and turned back to her student papers. She only marked one before she nudged her foot against Gwen's, then slid the side of her shoe smoothly over Gwen's calf. "Drinks on Friday evening, then you and I should have dinner. Maybe we'll go back to yours."

"Maybe we will. And when I say maybe, I'm really hoping it means almost definitely."

Morgana just smiled, and her foot pressed closer to Gwen's leg, sending a flush of trembling desire right through Gwen.

+

"Come here," Gwen said, and put an arm around Morgana to hold her close soon as they were inside Gwen's flat. "Come on, you should stay, it's too late to go home."

"Not that late," Morgana replied but offered no other objection. Her hair fell in a dark curtain over both their shoulders and over their coats, and her mouth hovered just over Gwen's lips. "But late enough, I think."

Gwen smiled into the kiss that Morgana gave her. She tasted a little like wine, a little like the chocolate and whipped cream cake they'd had after dinner, and a little like the taste of Gwen's own mouth. This, she could get used to this again, to finding Morgana's body pliant and warm against hers as they kissed and _kissed. _

She could get used to feeling a little dizzy-drunk in love, with or without the actual being drunk part. And she could absolutely, without any doubt, get used to the way Morgana's tongue slid over hers to lure Gwen further into the kiss before she realized what was happening.

"Do you really want to stay?" Gwen had slid her hands into the warmest spaces between Morgana's unbuttoned coat and her body, and was in the process of burying herself in that same warmth. "Do you really? I really want you to..."

"I do. Oh, god. I want you." Morgana was kissing her again, all lips and tongue, and her hand rested at the base of Gwen's neck to hold her close even when the kisses stopped. "If I stay, will you...?"

"I will. All of it. I don't know. It feels like – like it's right this time. I can do it this time with you."

Morgana smiled - really smiled, big and bright - and she looked, god, she looked about nineteen again for a few seconds. Drinks with Arthur and Merlin had been good, and dinner had been great, the wine and dessert especially, yet this part of the night, now that Gwen had Morgana all to herself, was delicious in ways she could never explain when she was sober.

Coats, shoes, clothes. They came off easily enough, left in a drunken, clumsy heap by Gwen's bed, and they fell onto the bed in a heap themselves, laughing and touching and kissing without any grace or precision.

Not that there was need for any, not with the way Morgana discovered all the curves of Gwen's body, tracing over her shoulders and down her waist, between her thighs and at the swell of her calves. She used her mouth and her hands, kissed Gwen until she was laughing with the sheer pleasure of it and stroked her until she was whimpering as that pleasure built, a constant pulse inside her.

Gwen had thought she knew Morgana's body, but that knowledge was one that only got better and deeper as she let her own hands and mouth relearn the patterns of desire between them. The fingers she slipped and curved inside her drew Morgana's climax from her in a series of soft, shuddery breaths against Gwen's shoulder. Morgana's eyes were wide and dark, and she let out this small, broken, beautiful sound, almost a sob, when Gwen curled their bodies in against each other before falling asleep.

+

Gwen stared up at the ceiling for a while, trying to decide if what she needed was more sleep or a few million cups of tea, and sighed when she felt Morgana shift in closer next to her.

"Should we blame the wine?" Morgana asked, her voice rough and low with sleep, and rested her head on the pillow next to Gwen's. "Mm?"

"There was a great deal of it involved."

Morgana made a sound of agreement and nestled in closer. "Sleep, then breakfast, then we'll decide?"

"If we have to."

"If we have to," Morgana repeated. She settled in really close to Gwen, making tiny, happy, sleepy little sounds as her fingers moved over Gwen's stomach, flitting over her thighs and then up to her breasts to pet warmly.

Dozing in the warmth of the bedcovers and with Morgana's body curved in around hers was so easy. The warm musk of skin and sex was all over the sheets, and Gwen could smell the faint scent of her own body lotion and shampoo mingled with that inimitable sweet, floral scent of Morgana's perfume.

"I don't want to." Gwen tucked herself in closer to Morgana and rested her hand just at the curve of Morgana's waist. "I don't want to blame the wine or… or anything else like that."

"No?" Morgana kissed her shoulder, soft and damp and teasing, and leaned in to tickle her nose over Gwen's ear. "I love waking up next to you…"

"Oh, god… I'm going to blame _that._ The sound of your voice when you wake up, and the way you look at me right after we kiss, and the way you hold my hand when we walk out of the café every morning."

Morgana kissed just behind Gwen's ear and settled her head on Gwen's shoulder. "Blame all that, then. And blame me, because I love looking at you, and holding your hand, and going out with you, and thinking that we've really managed it this time."

"Suppose I could take some of the blame myself. What comes next?"

"I think I've already solved that problem. We're going to sleep some more, then get up and have a ridiculously huge breakfast, and then get on with the rest of the day."

Gwen closed her eyes and snuggled down into the blankets and pillows. "Glad you've sorted it all out."

"Mm. It's going to be a good day," Morgana said.

Gwen found no reason to disagree.

\+ +

  
It's not the first time  
we've bitten into a peach.  
But now at the same time  
it splits--half for each.  
Our "then" is inside its "now,"  
its halved pit unfleshed--

_what was_ refreshed.  
Two happinesses unfold  
from one joy, folioed.  
In a hotel room  
our moment lies  
with its ode inside,  
a red tinge,  
with a hinge.

Molly Peacock, _Couple Sharing a Peach_  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dinner Party](https://archiveofourown.org/works/168576) by [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim)




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